A Season of Dreaming
by hues
Summary: When they sleep Shouyo is alive.


**Spring**

The boys visit Shouyo when they have the time. They're older now, in their thirties, and Shouyo is in his late fifties.

Katsura visits on special occasions, during new years and when the cherry blossoms start to bloom.

"How have you been, Kotaro-kun?" Shouyo asks, and Katsura stifles a smile.

"Adding that prefix to my name makes it sound like I'm still a boy…" he says.

Shouyo, in his ever wise presence and relaxed expression, says, "You are still a boy to me, you know," and Katsura should have known that's how Shouyo-sensei would reply.

"I'm doing well. Our country is doing well, thanks to my men. I see Ikumatsu more often, and while I'm not sure she will ever want another husband, she at least appreciates my company. I love her, but she is fine just as she is. She does not need me to be happy."

"Always a polite soul you carry, Kotaro-kun," Shouyo says, "and always a leader. Do you enjoy it?"

Katsura looks at him quizzically. "Do I enjoy leading?" he asks.

Shouyo nods.

"I don't know much else, sensei," he laughs gently. "You saw that I was destined to lead when I was a child, and so I've set my sights on it ever since then."

"And you do a wonderful job, I'm sure," Shouyo says.

Katsura smiles and takes his cup of sake. A tray sat between them and they each took turns pouring each other's drink. The alcohol soothes their mood.

A breeze passes through the valley, rustling both the men's long hair, creating a chill upon their skin. They sat on the porch of the once lively school Shouyo used to teach in years ago. It was now a place of solitude for the older man, a place for him to enjoy life as it was granted to him by day, and he grew many fruits and vegetables to sell and keep for himself. He never left his home on its own—it was too precious to him, and it needed him; he needed it.

"I remember your graduation paper from your first years of school," Shouyo began, looking straight ahead as if he saw the images playing out before him. "There was a great sense of pride as you read it out loud to the class. Do you remember?"

Katsura fiddles with a lock of his hair (something he used to do as a child when he felt shy) and blushes. "That was more of a lecture, sensei."

Shouyo laughs. "A lecture, a speech, what have you… I remember it well. A gifted nobleman is what you are, Kotaro-kun. I hope you've realized that."

"It's thanks to you, sensei. I would not be the man I am today if it weren't for you."

"Nonsense. I helped, that is all. I'm sure that even without me, you would have found your way. You have a good head on your shoulders."

Katsura's eyes brighten; he looks at his own feet swaying back and forth off the edge of the deck—just like a child.  
"Thank you, sensei."

**Summer**

Shouyo is always excited to see Gintoki. He is an eccentric man, always has been, even when he was a young boy. Curly white hair, large red eyes… well, not so large anymore, as they've picked up a dead and bored look to them, but nonetheless.

Gintoki will always be Shouyo's cute little student.

He makes a habit of ruffling Gintoki's hair every time he visits—it's the first thing he does—then he says, "You are growing, Gintoki."

And Gintoki goes, "Huuuuh? I'm the same height as I was last year, sensei."

Shouyo chuckles, that chuckle as if he knows something others don't… "Growth isn't just in your body, Gintoki," he says.

Gin raises an eyebrow.

"Your heart grows, too. You have collected so many important people in your life, how can a small heart contain them? That's how you grow."

Gin stares at Shouyo, taking in his words, making sense of them. It was simple, really.

"Yeah, there are a lot of annoying assholes surrounding me every day," he says. "That's why it's nice to come here, sensei. Just us, no noise, no responsibilities, no stress," Gintoki sighs and lays back on the porch, using his arms behind his head as support. "When I'm an old man I hope I still have all my hair like you," he says. His eyes are closed; he's enjoying the sun's warmth.

"I sometimes wonder if I should cut it and make myself bald so I will look like an old man," Shouyo says humorously.

Gintoki makes a clicking sound against his cheek. "Don't worry, sensei, you still look like an old man with all that hair."

Shouyo smiles. "Good to hear," he says.

They sit in silence a little while longer, drinking sake, basking in the sun, and then Shouyo brings up an old memory… "Your first birthday at the school, do you remember it?"

Gintoki opens his eyes and looks at Shouyo. "Why do you ask?" he says.

"It was a special day."

"Yeah, I guess," Gintoki says. "I haven't really celebrated birthdays since leaving school, though, so it's an old memory."

"Kotaro-kun ruined the surprise party by coming in before you… we thought he was already with the rest of the class. When you followed in right after, everyone had blank stares."

Gintoki laughs. "That bastard," he says. "Takasugi left right after, saying it was a waste of time, and that he had homework to do. He never liked me, the little prick."

"That's not true. He was fond of you, he just didn't know how to show it," Shouyo says, then drinks the last of his sake. "How is he doing?" he asks.

Gintoki shrugs. "Haven't seen him in a while," he says. "Not sure if he really cares, either."

There's a moment of silence between them and the mood shifts.

"I'm sure he'll come visit soon," Shouyo says. He gives Gintoki's white curly locks another ruffle.

**Fall**

Shouyo is working on spreading pumpkin seeds in his garden. It's a chilly autumn afternoon, but the sun is out and the sky is clear. He'd developed a deadly cough in the last couple months… something that'd turned into an illness. He'd been seeing a doctor regularly, and although the treatments helped his symptoms, he knew there was not much time for him left. His body was getting weak.

It was a shame since he was still only in his late fifties, but he'd always accepted that death would come whenever it pleased. He spent more time in his garden; it provided more life than his body could offer.

As he finishes his last row in the section of pumpkin seeds, he hears the sound of footsteps coming near, the crunch of leaves fallen off the trees around his home. He has a feeling of who it is.

"Sensei," came the voice, and his feeling is right.

Shouyo turns around and smiles. "Shinsuke-kun," he says.

And so here he was again, sitting on the front porch of his home, tray of sake present and student at his side. Their time together was spent more in silence than anything. It was an enjoyable silence, however. Takasugi needed it, as the day to day chaos in his head left no time for peace and quiet, even when he was alone in his room at night… that was the worst of it.

Takasugi wore a scarf around his neck; and for once, his feet are not bare. Shouyo notices, and makes a comment.

"You've started dressing for the weather," he says. All in a sudden, he turns his head to the side and covers his mouth, feeling a coughing fit coming on. It takes a minute for him to get through the throat burning coughs, and once he's finished he faces forward again and apologizes. A small speck of blood lingers at the corner of his lips.

Takasugi pours him a drink, and then one for himself. He raises the cup to his lips, eyeing Shouyo suspiciously. As he drinks, he takes a small green book out from the inside of his yukata and places it in the space between them.

"The pages are wearing out," he begins, "it's hard to read anything written in here anymore. What does that mean, sensei?"

There's a hint of sadness in Takasugi's voice, and Shouyo picks up on it right away. He frowns. "I've been ill," he admits. Katsura and Gintoki did not know, but he knew Takasugi didn't speak with them, so he believes his secret is safe.

Takasugi feels anger stirring his insides.

Don't take him away from me again.

"But I've been seeing a doctor and have medicine," Shouyo continues. "It's new medicine created from new technology… nothing I know how to make, and nothing I could have taught back in the day. It's amazing how much this world has changed."

Takasugi lowers his head. "How much longer do you have?" he asks, ignoring Shouyo's attempt at changing the subject.

The old man's heart sinks. It was impossible to get anything past Takasugi. He was too smart; he understood people too well. "Not much longer, I believe," Shouyo says.

And there was silence.

Takasugi takes another sip of sake. He exhales and relaxes then leans back onto his hands, loosening the scarf around his neck. "No matter how many dreams I have, you never stay. I have these nightmares all the time, sensei. One moment you're there, and the next you're gone. Everything is fading. Reality and fantasy aren't any different to me anymore."

"You were always troubled with bad dreams," Shouyo says. "You were always able to see things others could not. Your ability to see through people is a gift and yet a curse… how do you handle it?"

Takasugi ponders, green eyes reflecting the pain and discomfort he so often felt. "I keep dreaming. At the beginning of these dreams you're alive, at least," he says.

Shouyo feels guilty to be the cause of his once student's sadness… "I'm sorry, Shinsuke-kun," he says. No matter how much he apologizes, he will never feel satisfied. To not be able to give any last words to Takasugi, to leave him behind without saying a thing… to leave him in the dark with just his head to return…

Purple locks of hair cover Takasugi's one good eye to hide his face. "Don't be," he says. His chest aches, and his eyes burn.  
Shouyo pulls him close.

**Winter  
**  
The sound of crunching snow follows the boys' footsteps to the furthest place from home they could be. A place bound by nostalgia, both memories good and bad, no matter what planet they stepped foot on, this place would always feel furthest—the old schoolyard.

Gintoki is the one to kneel down in front of Shouyo's grave and bring out a bottle of sake. He pours two cups—one for Shouyo and one for himself. He makes a silent toast then closed his eyes and drinks his share.

Katsura stands by his side while Takasugi keeps himself a distance away.

"Don't be a stranger," Gintoki says, his eyes closed as he prays. Takasugi makes a disgruntled face, irritated with Gintoki's lack of response at him even being there in the first place.

Katsura joins Gintoki in prayer and huddles close to him; it's cold.

Takasugi sighs, wraps his scarf tightly around his neck, and walks closer to the grave. He doesn't want to share the silence, but he knows he should.

He stands next to Gintoki, and then kneels, bringing his hands together.

A few moments of silence pass, and the three rise.

Gintoki leaves the cups there on Shouyo's grave.

"He's glad you came," Gintoki says, speaking in Shouyo's place. "I had another dream," he continues, "he asked how you've been. I told him I didn't know. If I ever have that dream again, what should I tell him?"

Takasugi remains quiet, staring at the tomb stone before him.

Gintoki's face is solemn. He shrugs. "Oh, well. I'm sure a dream brought us here together, anyway. You must have talked to him there."

When there is no response, Gintoki turns around and smiles. "See ya," he says, and then he makes his way back home.

Katsura lingers for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah, it was only a dream," Takasugi says unexpectedly. Katsura understands; he'd had the dream, too. He puts his hand on Takasugi's shoulder tenderly, bows his head, then walks away.

Takasugi reads Shouyo's grave:

_"Yoshida Shouyo_  
_Friend and Mentor_  
_Loved by many_  
_May he rest in eternal peace"_

He leans down to place his hand on the cold tomb,  
lingers for a moment,  
then turns away.

From three different directions they came,  
and in three different directions they went.  
A season of dreaming was much better than this.


End file.
